


what's your alibi?

by loverboyera



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, this is not rpf this is not real person fiction
Genre: Creeper Hybrid Sam | Awesamdude, Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Major Character Death - kinda, Not Canon Compliant, Original Eight - Freeform, Pandora's Vault Prison, Parental Sam | Awesamdude, Protective Sam | Awesamdude, Sam | Awesamdude-Centric, fran is the goodest girl, no beta we die like el rapids, semi canon compliant, this is not RPF, unreality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 20:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30111876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loverboyera/pseuds/loverboyera
Summary: the price of your greedis your son and your daughterwhat you gon' dowhen there's blood in the water?—day in and day out, sam sits in the lobby of the prison.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Sam | Awesamdude
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63





	what's your alibi?

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: yes i have DID. yes i think sam has DID. yes i love him
> 
> before you read this i am obligated to tell you it was written for a dsmp rp discord and some things are noncanon and may not make sense without context. here are the biggest things to know for this to make sense:
> 
> 1.) sam is a sort of father figure to dream, and feels guilty for raising him into what he is now; the original eight function as somewhat of a pseudo-family  
> 2.) upon finding out about dream's torture, george went a little batshit and screamed at sam  
> 3.) sbi as family is a thing, tommy is currently staying with sam because he and technoblade fought (surprise) and tommy fell sick with a fever after an ill-timed trip to the nether
> 
> i think that will tie everything together nicely. enjoy! please be sure to read the tags for triggers.

Day in and day out, Sam sits in the lobby of the prison.

Some days he deviates from that norm; Dream needs food, or Dream needs a new clock, or Dream needs to tell Sam how much he hates him and wants to strip his flesh from his body. Today is a deviation; he makes his way through the prison with clock in hand, he lowers the lava. His family sits on the other side, one long table with eight chairs and raucous laughter and a spot for Sam at the head, across from Bad. He follows the bridge as it moves, watches them all turn and beckon for him, shouting and greeting and hooting and hollering. Bad's eyes are red; Ponk sits to the right of where Sam should, eyes soft and warm. Dream sits to the left, mask off like he's a kid again and arm on the back of George's chair.

Feet touch the obsidian of the cell; Sam presses the button to lower the barrier, and after blinking he realizes the noise has stopped. He looks up to find the table full still, but there is no warmth, there is no life. Bad's eyes are white. Ponk's gaze is hard. They all slump in various positions, faces twisted in various expressions of rage or grief or fear; necks are twisted, arms are contorted, eyes are unseeing in death. 

"Til death us do part," Dream says, from where he sits at the head of the table. His mask is on, now; it is bloodstained and cracked, and his hands are no better. There is something lain across his lap, something Sam cannot see until Dream hoists it on to the table and lets limbs _thud_ noisily, until a blond haired blue eyed head with a slack mouth and a ruined expression faces the ceiling. "Sam."

Sam screams; he backpedals, feet stumbling onto the bridge to take him away. He is too fast; heel hits empty air and Sam is falling, falling, Dream's laughter ringing throughout empty air and reverberating off obsidian until Sam is seated in a plush chair in the front lobby of a ritzy hotel, a terrified scream of his name fading in his ears.

"We're awaiting Tommy Innit's return to the Big Innit Hotel," Sam Nook tells him breezily, a smile on his lips. His Iron Will is strapped to his waist, Fork of Hearts in his hand. "You'll have to wait for him to be on site to book a room."

"I don't need a room," Sam tells him, and Sam Nook shakes his head; the straps of his hardhat dangle and flap with the motion, a laugh leaving his mouth.

"Tommy needs a room," Sam Nook says, voice in the same weirdly tonal monotone and when Sam blinks, Philza is standing next to Nook with Tommy bundled in his arms. "Can he stay with you?" Sam holds out his arms and Phil lays Tommy gently into them, the boy's face slick with sweat but slack and peaceful in sleep.

"Of course he can," Sam says; a red cape flourishes in the corner of his eye, and when he turns to face it the room is dim again. Quackity stands in front of a wall of lava, the dim orange light haloing around him and blurring the edges of his wings. He looks like an avenging angel, the Warden's Will and Hammer strapped into his belt and face hidden in shadow. Sam takes a step forward and staggers, realizes Tommy is still held in his arms.

"If you're going to do it, do it right." The Warden stands before Quackity; he is holding a pair of bolt cutters out, handle first. Quackity's teeth gleam in the light, feral smile on his lips.

"Don't," Sam chokes out, but neither man pays him any mind. Sam lays Tommy on the bed and makes to run, hand held out to grab the back of Quackity's shirt; he is wrenched back by the ankle with a cry and when he turns back he finds that he is shackled with a chain to the sleeping Tommy. Tommy is in turn shackled to Tubbo, Tubbo is shackled to Ranboo, Ranboo is shackled to Technoblade shackled to Wilbur shackled to George shackled to Sapnap shackled to Hannah shackled to Bad all the way down until Sam can no longer see who is the next in line of people he has failed.

Sam is yanked again, this time in the opposite direction; he finds yet another chain, this one on his wrist, stretching out into the lava slowly lowering once more. Quackity is now gone across and the bridge slots back into place, the _thunk_ the only thing to be heard past Sam's own breathing. The Warden stares at Sam, gaze cool and indifferent. 

_"SAM!"_ It is a terrified scream, Dream's voice hoarse, and it sounds too close despite the meters of lava between them. The chains holding him tighten, first pulling him closer to Tommy and then closer to Dream, joints aching.

"He needs us! He needs _me!"_ Sam is shouting, because he knows what's to come, but the Warden is shaking his head. 

"He needs a lesson," the Warden says stoically. 

"He needs a lesson," Sam Nook says cheerfully, and when Sam turns, Nook is sitting on the bed with Tommy's sleeping head in his lap.

"He needs _us,"_ Sam says again, desperately, and he swears he can hear the echo of Dream down the hallway, of _Come on, Sam Nook, what's the next task!_ when he was still bright enough to light but dim enough not to scorch. A blonde child peeks playfully around the corner, but Sam blinks and he is gone.

"You can go to him," the Warden says; he holds a key in his hand, and Sam feels relief as he realizes it unlocks the shackles. He holds out his ankle, but the Warden shakes his head. "No. This key goes to that one." He points to Sam's wrist, to the one attached to a chain that glows red in the lava but does not melt. Sam's heart sinks slowly, gunpowder waterlogged.

_"SAAAAM!"_

He can go to Dream, and drag everyone behind him into the lava that will kill them all. Or he can let the Warden unlock his hand, he can leave Dream to his cell and his Warden and his punisher, and he can salvage the few things that are not lost causes.

"Dream needs me," Sam says; his voice is broken. When he looks back to his long line of people only Tommy remains, alone on the bed; when Sam turns back to the Warden he, too, is gone, and the key rests on the floor. There is no one but Sam and Tommy and Dream and Quackity, in this prison of horrors that Sam wishes he'd never built in the first place.

 _ **"** **SAM!!!"**_ Dream's voice hitches on a sob this time, and it is only seconds later that the chain goes slack; Sam pulls on it frantically, ignoring the way it burns his hands, until he finds the end: it has been sliced cleanly, no fracture in sight. Sam sinks to his knees, puts the heels of his hands to his eye sockets and _screams._ He is sobbing by the time it peters out, voice weak and throat raw, as Dream's screams of panic and fear and pain fill his ears. 

It does not go silent for a long time, and when it does Sam looks up to find Quackity holding out Warden's Will to him. "Thanks," Quackity says cheerfully. "I'll see you soon, pal."

"That isn't mine," Sam says, scrambling back from the pool of blood gathering on the floor, a steady _drip, drip_ off the point.

"It is," Quackity says, voice patient as if Sam is a toddler; when Sam only continues to shake his head, Quackity just shrugs and slings it across his shoulder, whistling as he makes to leave. "Here," Sam hears Quackity say, and when he looks up it is just he and George in the lobby of the prison, Dream's Nightmare sword in his hands.

"You reap what you sow," George says flatly, and the sword comes down on Sam's neck.

* * *

Sam wakes in a pool of his own sweat and tears, blood in his mouth from where he's bitten his tongue. Fran lays across one ankle, 90 pounds of fluff, and his opposite hand is twisted up into sheets that are knotted and torn from the thrashing of his sleep. 

Fran whines quietly through her nose, and Sam closes his eyes, counts to ten. When he opens them again his room is filled with the early hues of sunrise, and he wonders if Dream will ever see one again.

**Author's Note:**

> if you told me at any point after exile arc up until last night that i would sob over dream getting some karmatic justice i would have laughed in your face.


End file.
